I Dated a Mystery Twin!
by AllenbysEyes
Summary: After the events of The Arrogance of Power, Dipper, Mabel, Wendy and Charlie decide to unwind and settle into their new relationships. What better way than a double date? But sometimes, even the best laid plans of mice, men and Mabel can have complications. A light-hearted bridge between Arrogance and my next story. Contains some sexuality and lots of romantic fluff.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's note: Hi, everyone! After finishing The Arrogance of Power, I wanted to write something lighter as a breather before plunging into another long-form story. Consider this a semi-sequel to that fic and a lead-in to the next. Thanks for your reads, reviews and support!_

 **July 20th, 2018**

 **1:15 pm**

Neither Dipper nor Wendy understood why Mabel made such a big deal out of a double date. For one thing, it had only been three days since Dipper and Wendy decided to turn six years of friendship into something more. For another, they were still unwinding from an arduous investigation involving government conspiracies, mind-numbing historical research and harassment by all manner of goons. And besides, as Wendy pointed it, it seemed pointless.

"Mabes, I know you love this stuff," Wendy groaned as she leaned back in a chair at the Shack. "But really, hear me out. One, we've already been friends for years, this won't be a huge deal for anyone here. Well, maybe you and Charlie, but you've kinda been a thing for awhile anyway. Two, it's summer time. We can see each other whenever, we don't need to make a big deal out of it! Why do we need to have some kinda fancy night out when we could go watch movies or hang out at the lake or, I dunno, maybe chase monsters?"

"Because it needs to be a special occasion!" Mabel insisted, practically jumping up and down. How could they not get it? "I mean, just hanging out with people isn't really a date, no matter what you guys did on that beach..."

"We didn't do _anything_ on the beach..." Dipper interjected with exaggerated indignation.

"Plus it's the first time that we'll be together in public as couples," Mabel said. "Think of it as our debut! Sure, maybe our closest friends and dearest grunkles already know, but now we can announce it to the world that we're all together! And that is a special occasion."

Wendy and Dipper looked at each other and sighed at once. Once Mabel was on a roll there was no point in arguing with her.

"I mean, I guess it might be fun to go out as a couple," Wendy said with a shrug. "I don't think anybody's gonna judge us about it, or anything." She slipped her hand onto Dipper's knee, instantly causing him to quake with anxiety.

"N-n-no, of course not!" Dipper said. "It's just, I mean...I'm not big on making a spectacle of myself, you know? The whole fancy date thing isn't really for me."

Wendy bit her lip and nodded. "I think Dip has a point," she admitted. "I don't like dressing up ultra-fancy unless I absolutely have to."

Mabel seemed crestfallen, looking down at the floor and shifting in place, sad and annoyed. Wendy felt a stab of regret, then looked at her friend and smiled.

"Although...I wouldn't mind eating at a nicer restaurant than Greasy's Diner for a change," she said, and Mabel perked up hopefully.

"So it's agreed!" Mabel said. "This is going to be the best, most exciting evening Gravity Falls has ever seen!"

Dipper rolled his eyes, but Wendy laughed at her young friend's enthusiasm.

"Come on man, if anyone knows how to have a good time it's your sister," Wendy said, ribbing her boyfriend. "Besides, after keeping me on the hook all those years, you owe me a decent dinner."

" **I** owe _you_ for...?" Dipper sputtered incredulously. "Come on, Wendy..."

"Just messing with you, dude!" she said, pressing Dipper's cap down over his head. "Chill out!"

"Save it for the date, love birds!" Mabel chided, smiling her Mabelest smile. "There's gonna be plenty of time for that later! Now we need to plan!"

And so Mabel, with her usual energy, enthusiasm and thoroughness, started bouncing ideas off Dipper and Wendy at pinball speed. It was all they could do to keep up! Her excitement proved infectious, and soon Dipper and Wendy seemed almost as excited about Date Night as Mabel. Yet Mabel recognized, even as she pit out contingencies, that she still had one person to convince: Charlie.

* * *

Before this summer Charlie Huston's love life was, if possible, even less existent than Dipper's. He had never dated a girl in high school, only pined awkwardly (and some might say creepily) from afar at the cute girl on the soccer team and who may have inspired him to take drama even though he was terrified in public, only to prove really good at acting. He'd had a few crash-and-burn dates in college that went nowhere, had tried repeatedly to turn his friendship with Isabel Mercer into something more, only to be rebuffed and planted firmly in the Friend Zone. (Which, in retrospect, he didn't mind so much...better to be clear about boundaries than not.)

Suffice it to say, he wasn't at all prepared for Mabel Pines coming at him with the full force of a hurricane. So far it had been exhausting and exhilarating and occasionally fun; after their talk the other day, Mabel convinced him that she didn't care about his neuroses and weaknesses and fears about the future, that she recognized him as a kindred soul in Weirdness even if their specific interests didn't exactly match. And that mattered more than anything else.

So when Charlie received a phone call during his lunch break, he was still excited just by the prospect of talking to Mabel and having someone like her interested in him. But when he heard what she was calling about, his enthusiasm waned.

"I mean, I'm not really the dating type," Charlie protested. "Getting all dressed up and having to act all formal and, you know..."

"Geez, why do I hang out with such dummies?" Mabel wondered aloud. He could practically feel her smirk over the phone. "What's wrong with dressing up? And acting formal? Charlie, this is about having fun with your friends, as couples. You're not like becoming Ambassador or anything? Do I have to smack all of you in the head and force-feed you Mabel Juice until you all see the light?"

Charlie hadn't yet been exposed to Mabel's sugar-and-dinosaurs delicacy, but he recognized that she was worked up enough that she couldn't possibly take no for an answer.

"All right, sure," Charlie muttered unenthusiastically. "I'll try and get some discussion topics ready for tonight. You know, so I don't bore everyone."

"Sheesh, you really _are_ just like Dipper," Mabel teased. "Maybe that can be one of your amazing topics! Anyway, meet you when you get off work?"

"Of course," Charlie said.

"All right, love ya!" Mabel hung up.

* * *

If Mabel hoped it would be a swanky night on the town, she'd be sorely disappointed. For from the moment Dipper and Wendy agreed, they started talking her down from her extravagant plans.

"We can't eat at The Club," Dipper said, shooting down her first suggestion.

"I'm with Dipper," Wendy agreed. "Food isn't bad, but it's $40 for a steak! Besides, I'd rather not go places that remind me of my ex."

"That and I seem to recall Gideon..." Dipper said.

"Gideon was a million years ago!" Mabel reminded him, more than a little annoyed. "Plus, going with someone who isn't a creep might help me live down that experience."

"I've got an idea, Mabes," Wendy said. "There's a place along the interstate about five miles outta town. It's called Baker's Grill, or something like that. Went there with my dad and brothers a few times, it's pretty good. Good bar food, plus steaks and seafood and junk like that if Charlie's feeling fancy."

"Besides, it's not like you enjoy eating daintier foods anyway, sis," Dipper reminded her. "Remember that time you tried eating lamb? Didn't even get through two bites before you spit it all over the table!"

"Only because who would eat a cute little lamb?" Mabel said. Then she smiled and mussed his hair. "It would almost be like eating _you_ , Bro-Bro! Mwap!"

"All right, guess I brought that on myself. But still, we don't need to be super fancy. Nobody's getting married."

Mabel glowered thoughtfully. "Well, I guess we don't have to do suit-and-tie kinda stuff for our first couple's date," she admitted. "And I _could_ go for maybe a good half-classy burger or something like that."

"Attagirl!" Wendy cheered, before smiling mischievously. "Plus they've got beer on tap, and someone here's 21!"

"Not all of us are!" Mabel said in a sing-song voice, wagging a finger. "Besides, Charlie doesn't drink."

"Wait, he doesn't drink? And he's 22, right? What kinda square are you dating, Mabel?" Wendy stared at her as if she'd said Charlie was a Martian.

"One who didn't wait six years to admit his feelings for me," Mabel insisted. "Oh, someone call the burn unit!"

"Fair enough," Wendy chuckled, watching Dipper huff and cross his arms. "All right, we've still got a few hours. I don't think they take reservations, so we'd better go pretty early coz they tend to get packed on Friday nights. When does Charlie get off work?"

"Usually around 5, I think," Mabel said. "But he says they let him leave at like 4:30 on Fridays, if it's slow."

"All right, cool," Wendy said.

"Great! I'll throw together my nicest outfit," Mabel said. "Maybe I can call Isabel and knit something..."

"Mabel," Dipper said, shutting her down with an impatient glare.

"Okay, nothing _too_ nice," she pouted. "Course, I can't help wondering if that's just an excuse for you not to get outclassed by me and Charlie!"

"Mabes, you'll win that one any day," Wendy said. "Anyway, I should head back to my place for awhile. Got to clean up my apartment a bit before the weekend starts. Hate dealing with laundry and dishes and mess on a Sunday night, you know?"

"Oh yeah, weekend chores are the worst," Mabel agreed, pretending to gag. "Well, have fun with that. I've got a sweater to pick out. Ooh, or maybe make a new one from scratch! But what pattern would be appropriate for a first date?" And she bolted upstairs to grab her sewing supplies.

"Keep an eye on your sister, all right?" Wendy told Dipper. "Make sure she doesn't, like, explode before tonight."

"I'll try," Dipper said. Wendy couldn't help noticing he still seemed a little uncertain.

"What's wrong, man?" Wendy asked.

"I dunno. I mean, I don't get me wrong, I'd love to go on a date with you, but doing it with Mabel and Charlie...Not sure it will seem special."

"Maybe," Wendy shrugged. "Depends on what you mean by special. Any night with your sister is special." They both saw Mabel already comparing swatches of fabric under a light.

"Yeah, I guess, but I mean...special for us."

Wendy smiled. "Well, there's no reason it can't be," she assured him, kissing him on the cheek. "I mean, dinner should be fun at least, and there's nothing that says we have to spend all night with Mabel and Charlie..."

Dipper certainly perked up at that, though he could scarcely believe his ears. "Um, do you mean...?"

"I mean, I've rented _The Night of Horus_ from the video store," she said temptingly. "Really crazy '70s horror movie about an Egyptian god seeking revenge on some jerk archaeologists. Stars Peter Cushing and what's his name, that monkey from the old _Planet of the Apes_?"

"Roddy McDowall? Maurice Evans? Be more specific," Dipper insisted.

"Roddy McDowall, that's it!" Wendy said, snapping her fingers. "Didn't even need to look it up. Anyway, I dunno about Charlie but I'm thinking that movie might be a bit intense for Mabel. So...we could always watch it at my place."

"Y-y-yeah, your place!" Dipper said, smiling. "Why not?"

"Later, dork," she said, kissing him again and then exiting. "I'm not gonna like, wear a dress or anything, but I'll try and make sure I look nice at least. No reason to look like crap."

"Well, I mean, just dress up like you'd usually dress up for this kinda place, right?" Dipper asked. "Whatever that is?"

"We'll figure something out," Wendy said before walking out. And Dipper stared after her, wondering if this evening might prove even more exciting than even Mabel could have anticipated.


	2. Chapter 2

Dipper's excitement lasted about as long as it took Wendy to walk out the door. Then his habitual doubt and worrying came rushing back at full force.

 _What just happened?_ he asked himself, pacing around the Shack living room. _Did I understand Wendy right - that she wants me to spend the night with her? That she might even want to have sex? Oh my God - that's great! But **is** it great? Really? I mean, it's not like I have any **experience**... unless... no, _THAT _doesn't count._

Sighing, he dragged himself into the kitchen and went through the motions of making and eating a sandwich. He didn't taste the half-stale bread or the musty peanut butter, and he barely noticed when Grunkle Stan, visibly sweating through his suit and fez, walked in panting.

"Jeez Louise, it's a hot one today!" he said, reaching into the fridge for a can of cola. He drank it more or less in one gulp. "Can't complain that I'm moving a lot of product, but man! And what are you little gremlins up to, huh? Sure would be nice to have a little help around the Shack today, but I guess you earned _some_ time off..."

"Grunkle Stan," he interrupted, swallowing a stale lump of peanut butter before trying to form words. "I need some advice."

"Look kid, I've told you before you need to wait until Ford comes back to ask about that sciencey stuff," Stan said, tossing his cola into a garbage can. "It was a very sketchy amateur sideline for me."

"It's about girls," he said. And Stan stopped in his tracks.

"What kinda girls? What happened?"

"Just, you know..." He sighed, closing his eyes for a long pause. "Wendy."

"Ohh..." Grunkle Stan nodded sympathetically, then pulled up a chair and sat next to his great-nephew. He hadn't exactly known, but neither was he especially surprised. Since Dipper and Mabel's first summer at the Falls, he'd always noticed the way Dipper acted around his redheaded employee, and despite Dipper's protests, had noticed that he'd never really stopped.

"Yeah, we decided that we really like each other and want to try being a couple. Which is great! But Mabel kinda roped us into a double date tonight with her and Charlie, and now Wendy's hinting that...she wants me to spend the night with her. You know..." He made a weird gesture with his hands that Stan couldn't puzzle out.

"Oh jeez, kid, I was really hoping that your dad and you would have this talk," Stan said, scratching his chin. "Well, I'm a bit rusty...well, very _rusty_ in the whole dating business, and I'm even rustier on the scoring with ladies side of things. Unless you count that spider lady, which I don't, or maybe that time in Colombia..." He trailed off, noticing that Dipper was waiting impatiently for him to say something comforting. He sighed.

"Anyway..." My God, how do you explain this to a kid, especially your great _nephew_? Somehow Stan managed to sweat even _more_ ; Dipper could see little droplets of perspiration forming on his bulbous nose.

"Sex is complicated. Simple, but complicated. Especially when you're just starting out in a relationship. I mean, you've known Wendy a huge chunk of your life, but then you have to get past the awkwardness of being her friend. I get that, I do."

"Grunkle Stan, I appreciate your trying to help, but this isn't..."

"I guess what I'm trying to say is...no reason to worry about it. If you aren't great in the sack -" he looked around awkwardly, hoping to God that Mabel wouldn't overhear their man-to-man talk - "It's no big deal. Especially the first time. Someone like Wendy, she'll understand. Anyway, I'm kind of an old-fashioned guy in that regard - I don't have any recommendations about...Anyway, just have fun."

Dipper sighed. He appreciated Stan trying, but this wasn't really reassuring him.

"I'm not so worried about the physical side of things, I guess," Dipper mumbled. "I mean, I am, sorta - all guys are, right? But what bothers me is, how will this change things? If we do, you know, sleep together? Are we gonna be the same? Is our relationship going to be different when it's over? I just don't wanna screw up, or come on too strong, or..."

Stan scowled, his face etched with thought. Dipper was eighteen and he needed this talk? What the heck were they teaching kids these days down in Piedmont? But he also remembered what had happened in the past when he tried giving Dipper relationship advice, and that didn't end well for either of them.

"Kid, if Wendy were just some girl you met at a bar or a restaurant, it might not mean anything," he began, trying his best to avoid his impulse of telling Dipper not to worry. "But Wendy's Wendy. You guys have been through a lot together. I mean sure, it might be awkward, but it sounds like she's into you. And I've always figured you feel the same way about her.

"Now, with some girls it might be harder to read them than others. But Wendy's always been pretty good about making herself known. If you screw up, she'll let you know. And if you come on too strong, she'll kick your ass!"

Dipper laughed at this, and Grunkle Stan put a hand on his shoulder.

"What I'm trying to say, kid, is don't worry about it too much. Just have fun. If it's a bad night, it's not the end of the world, and I'm sure Wendy's not gonna cut you out of her life even if things don't go according to plan. And if it does go well, well, I really, _really_ hope you won't be thinking of your Grunkle while you and Corduroy are making out."

"Grunkle Stan, you always think of the worst things to say!" Dipper said through an awkward chuckle.

"I am what I am, kid. That's what everyone loves about me!"

As Stan says this, Soos ran in panting from the gift shop.

"Mr. Pines, a bunch of patrons are furious about the new prices for the bobbleheads. They're threatening to riot! Oh, hey Dipper!"

"Ugh, not again," Stan groaned. "Soos, I'll be down in a minute to talk some sense into them. Just in case that doesn't work, get Melody to go out back and start up the hose."

"I'm on it, Mr. Pines," he said, saluting.

"Like I said, everyone loves me," Stan said, plastering on his huckster's smile and marching off to face the angry customers.

* * *

Upstairs, Mabel plunged full-throttle into her knitting zone. Since she wouldn't be wearing a super-nifty dress, she would have to make another sweater. But what would be appropriate for a first date? A couple's date? Something that says Mabel without saying silly or weird.

She wanted to do something silly, something Mabel: maybe two hearts holding hands or kissing, or a dog in love with a cat, or maybe even a Snadger! But she figured that was more for a casual movie night or a rehearsal dinner, something like that. So she decided to make a light peach-colored sweater from cotton yarn, having "borrowed" a truckload of the stuff from Isabel over the past few weeks (she really was a good friend). It wasn't wool, but it felt a lot better in the summer heat. After some hesitation, she decided not to put any kind of emblem or image on the front.

When she worked, she rarely thought about much anything beyond the task at hand. She measured and pulled and twisted and snipped, knitting, knitting, knitting herself the perfect outfit in record time. All she would have to find was the perfect pants and accouterments to go with it.

She jokingly hoped Charlie would appreciate the sacrifices she was making for him. That she was wearing a modest sweater instead of a dress or a Mabel Creation. That they were going to a run-of-the-mill casual restaurant instead of the swankiest place in town. But then, life was a series of compromises, and in the grand scheme of things these didn't bother Mabel too much, not at all really.

Because Charlie was Charlie. In a way, it was nice that he didn't care about these things and just let Mabel be Mabel. But sometimes Mabel wondered if that was just because he was too shy and too reserved to say anything. If that's the case, she would definitely have to find a way to pull him out of his shell. But maybe the first date wasn't the opportune time for that.

So she fished around in her drawer, looking for her favorite light blue earrings, when she saw the shooting star pin he had given her last week. She grabbed him and hugged it to her chest, overcome with a feeling of warmth and affection for someone who had a hard time expressing it otherwise. Enthusiastically she pinned it on her sweater, deciding that even a compromised dinner with her second-favorite person was worth getting excited over.

* * *

Mabel and Charlie definitely had one thing in common: they both loved planning. In Mabel's case, it involved throwing together a fabulous outfit and dreaming of the biggest, most romantic night ever. For Charlie, it mostly revolved around food.

He tried remembering if he'd ever been to Baker's Grill before - probably once or twice, maybe a group outing with his classmates or coworkers. He was chronically cash-poor and usually opted for fast food when he ran out of things to make. During his junior year he had made it through an entire semester on the same giant block of turkey meat, which tasted delicious until he'd eaten it day in, day out for months at a time, so much so that he still couldn't look at deli meat or eat a homemade sandwich without feeling nausea tickle the back of his throat.

Fortunately, today was slow - he only had two small clerical projects to work on, Mary was busy meeting with a foundation rep about future grants, and there hadn't been much traffic aside from the looky-lous checking out the museum. So he spent most of the day navigating the mossy slopes of an early Philip Roth novel (super long, extra Jewish, but much less masturbatory than his later works - try explaining _Portnoy's Complaint_ to a curious coworker!) and trying to think of possible food combinations.

Would there be steak? Steak is always good. No restaurant he'd ever been to, except that Chili's he visited during a family trip to Boise, was even capable of messing up steak. But then Mabel had made a few jokes (or were they?) about his needing to be in shape, though really he was far more of a string bean with a slight paunch than grossly overweight. So, maybe grilled chicken or something like that? How about fries? Or maybe a baked potato would be better. Would a baked potato still be healthy if you ate it with butter? You need butter, otherwise it tastes like shit. Maybe they had some good salads there. But what if they had the wrong kinds of dressing? He couldn't eat ranch dressing without getting sick, he didn't know why. And God forbid they put a hard-boiled egg on top...

At the very least, his culinary concerns prevented him from worrying overmuch about Mabel's own plans, about what he might talk about with Dipper (who he liked, but hadn't really connected with) and Wendy (who he'd always thought of as a cool girl who would barely give him time of day) without embarrassing himself or boring them. And certainly it was nice to have something to look forward to that wouldn't give him an ulcer, unless of course he picked the wrong entree. And certainly, he didn't even _think_ about what he was going to wear, and that his bright yellow polo shirt would have to suffice...

Maybe tonight would be fun after all, he thought, thinking about how excited Mabel had seemed in their brief phone conversation. He fished around in his desk drawer and found his shooting star pin. He stared at it for a moment, wondering if it went with his outfit, wondering if Mabel would notice (she would) or care (a toss-up), then pocketed it and went back to his novel. He was deep into Gabe Wallach's latest whine about _goy_ society and romantic dysfunction when a blue-haired old customer appeared, asking if they had information on a family that emigrated to Oregon immediately after the Civil War. Then, for the next hour-and-a-half, angsty Newark Jews and Mabel's sweaters and their friends and casual dining entrees all vanished from Charlie's mind.

* * *

It took Wendy most of the afternoon to clean her apartment. She had a small studio place, one living/bedroom that was just big enough for a bed, a dresser, a tiny bookshelf, a table and chair to eat, and a television, plus a kitchenette without a stove. She had a few band and movie posters on the wall, along with a framed picture of her with Robbie, Tambry, Nate, Lee and Thompson all at their graduation. She kept a smaller picture of herself with Dipper, Mabel and Soos on her dresser.

Even so, it was several hours before she was satisfied. She'd left clothes strewn about, making it nearly impossible to walk to and from her bed, the drawers of her dresser were pulled open, her photography books were rammed haphazardly into their shelves...Dammit. Dipper would have a fit if he came over and saw this. That and everything was dusty and needed cleaned, really bad.

So she dusted and swept and ran the cleaner. She put clothes away, though it sometimes took her a moment to figure out whether something was dirty or clean. She tried to put her books in some kind of order, knowing that Dipper, of all people, would notice if they weren't. But really, to organize them by title or author? Who gave a shit? Dipper might. So she eventually decided on author.

When did I get to be such a slob? Wendy wondered. I used to be the one who cleaned up after my dad and my brothers and had to run the show. Maybe being on my own made me pick up the slack. A Corduroy's home must always be a mess. It's like a law of Nature.

Somehow, it didn't occur to her that Dipper might have misgivings about spending the night with her. After all, he'd pined after her for as long as they'd known each other. And even if he was Dipper, he _was_ a guy - right? She wouldn't tell Dipper this, at least not right now, not until they were more comfortable together, but she **had** slept with guys before (even twice with Graham) and it didn't seem like that big of a deal to her, either. And Dipper couldn't be worse than Graham or Stony Davidson, at the very least...

But she did worry about not making an ass of herself at dinner. She knew how much smarter Dipper and Charlie were than her, and it intimidated her. She could put up with a lot, she could swallow a lot of her doubts and misgivings, but she really hated feeling dumb, stupid, inadequate. Her grades had never been the best, and certainly she didn't consider herself anywhere near Dipper's level intellectual. And while Mabel was usually silly enough that it didn't matter, Charlie somehow was an even bigger dork than Dipper. And she knew that guys, smart or dumb, dorks or cool, always loved to dominate dinner conversation. What on Earth would she **talk** about with them?

She took a moment to scan her bookshelf, mostly photography books, nature albums, a few romance novels and thrillers and old textbooks she hadn't been able to get rid of. She felt like such a fraud, staring at them, wondering what thick textbooks Dipper had in his room at home, what impenetrable tomes Charlie might read in his spare time.

But then she opened an album of her own photographs...studio shots of deer and birds and beautiful sunset woods, a nice cameo portrait of her family, a picture of herself standing atop an outcropping in her white t-shirt with a camera around her neck. And she felt a little better about herself, knowing that she might not be a genius but she had talent, she had worth and she certainly wasn't going to let her stupid insecurities let her down.

And besides, she knew her friends well enough to know that they wouldn't make her feel bad about it. Even if she _was_ dumb, they'd never tell her. If nothing else goes right, even if it's not the thrilling evening Mabel imagines, there will always be time with friends, plus a movie with Dipper afterwards...

"Oh, boo!" Wendy spotted a giant centipede creeping along the wall, moving at lightning speed. Without thinking, she grabbed an old English textbook off the shelf and smashed it down on the bug.

"You infested the wrong redhead's apartment, sucka!" she said, pumping her fist. Whatever else Dipper or Charlie had on her, they'd never beat her arthropod-smashing skills.


	3. Chapter 3

**4:00 pm**

Dipper killed the afternoon by swimming laps in the local high school pool. To his surprise he was almost alone, aside from a few kids who mostly splashed and yelled in the shallow end as their parents stared in bored dismay. He had a whole lane to himself and a great opportunity to sublimate his thoughts and stress into athletics. He thought about Wendy's words the other day and wondered if West Coast Tech actually had a swim team - they didn't seem like the school for it.

He almost lost track of time, and had to rush his shower and rush home on his bike in hopes of getting ready for the date. He knew he had to find a half-decent outfit or his sister would kill him.

Of course, from the way she was acting today, Mabel might kill him anyway.

"Hi Dipper, what do you think?" She greeted him at the doorway, holding out her arms and showing off her new sweater. It was peachy and pretty, with a necklace over top and Charlie's pin attached to the hem, all draped loosely over a maroon skirt.

"Looks nice, Mabel!" he said as he hopped off his bike. "Is that the cotton yarn?"

"Yep!" she enthused, stretching her arms. "And it feels so good in this weather! And smells so much... _cleaner_ than wool!" She closed her eyes and sniffed it with exaggerated pleasure...and caught a whiff of something less agreeable.

"Dipper, why do you smell like bleach?" She asked, one eye dramatically popping open. She looked at his hair and his clothes and...

"Geez Dip, you went swimming!? Just before our date?"

"Well yeah," he said, somewhat confused. "I mean, I didn't have anything better to do, and you know how swimming helps me get my mind off..."

"What you **should** have your mind on is how Wendy's gonna react to your smelling like a swimming pool!" Mabel chided. "You need to go inside and take a shower right now, Mister! I'm meeting Charlie in like half an hour!"

"Mabel, I already took a shower," Dipper said defensively. "Besides, the date won't be for like an hour. That's plenty of time to..."

"Ah-bap-bap-bap! No excuses!" She said, shaking her finger then pulling her brother inside. "Get upstairs and wash that junk off!"

"Mabel, stop it!" Dipper pulled back, harder than he intended and caused Mabel to stumble backwards. "You're acting crazy!"

"Crazy? You won't think it's so crazy when Wendy leaves you on the side of the interstate for stinking up her car!"

"Mabel, enough! You really think Wendy will care about stuff like that? You know her, Mabel, it's not really a big deal."

Mabel looked angry, then hurt, then remorseful.

"I'm sorry, Dipper," she muttered, playing with her hair. "It's just...Tonight means a lot to me. I mean, you know I wouldn't freak out like this if it didn't, right?"

"Of course I do," Dipper said, voice still betraying exasperation. "But, I mean, you don't have to take it _so_ seriously. We should have fun. I mean, Charlie's not going to leave you if there's a wrinkle in your shirt, and Wendy won't care if I smell like a septic tank."

"Oh, I don't know about that!" Mabel said, suddenly regaining her playfulness. "But sure, go roll around in goat poop to see what she thinks!"

"Then I really would need a _shower_!" Dipper laughed. The two siblings looked at each other and smiled.

"Tell ya what, Mabel," Dipper said, patting his twin's hand. "I'll take a quick shower and then you can help me pick out my outfit. I mean, Wendy might not care how I smell, but I'm pretty sure she wouldn't like me looking like a hobo either."

"I dunno, Wendy always had a thing for guys like that. Robbie and Stony and, ugh, that Graham loser!" She blew a raspberry.

"I mean, amidst such august company I really _could_ roll around in poop and seem the better alternative."

"Okay, enough stink-talk, Broseph! Upstairs and clean, now!" Mabel barked, but she retained her playful tone. Dipper shook her head, knowing that Mabel would be Mabel no matter how much he reasoned with her.

* * *

"Dude, why do you smell like bleach?"

That wasn't the response Dipper expected when he hopped into Wendy's van. He sniffed himself and couldn't detect any scent, but didn't feel like arguing.

"I went swimming this afternoon," he muttered as he fiddled with the seat belt.

"Should have figured," Wendy said, adjusting the mirror. "Of course, I thought maybe Mabel went overboard trying to clean your outfit."

She caught a glimpse of her date in the passenger's seat, his hair still wet and slicked backwards, wearing a dark blue golf shirt with a white tee underneath. He looked way more handsome than he did even a few hours ago.

"You look nice, by the way," she said as casually as she could. "Very handsome."

"Well, so do you," Dipper said, examining Wendy's outfit - a dark green blouse with khaki pants. Simple, beautiful, Wendy. Then he added, awkwardly: "Of course, you look good in anything."

She laughed and socked him on the shoulder. "Flatterer."

They drove to the interstate and almost immediately got locked into traffic.

"Yeah, I checked before I left and they were calling for about a ten minute delay," Wendy said. "Wreck or something up ahead. That's why I wanted to leave a bit early. I hope Charlie and Mabel get here on time."

"So, you've been to this place before?" Dipper asked, stumbling over small talk as usual.

"Yeah man, it's not bad. It's kinda like a local place doing the Applebees, Chili's thing. Same kinda food, they have the sports stuff and bric-a-brac on the walls. It's pretty silly, but it's not a bad place to unwind and get a drink. Or, you know, eat, if you're into that." She honked at a jerkass trying to cut her off.

"We don't eat at those kind of restaurants too often," Dipper said. "Mom sometimes gets on this health thing, and then she tries to bring religion into it when we complain. I can't imagine fajitas are kosher, Dip, I just can't!"

"Well, either way, maybe it's best not to think about that," Wendy said. "It's not like they're using prime cuts of meat for those things, you know."

"Guess you're right."

"The real measure of a place is ribs," Wendy said, licking her lips. "If it doesn't have good ribs, it's not worth eating there." Then she looked at Dipper, thought back to what he'd said a moment ago, and flushed with embarrassment. "Oh, I'm sorry, is it okay that-?"

"No, no, it's fine," Dipper assured her. "We're not that big on the dietary stuff; my Mom's the only one who _pretends_ to care, and even then...like, she'll make bacon for breakfast on Sundays all the time. It's just Mabel...you know, if you order a hot dog or pork or whatever she thinks it's like eating Waddles."

"How is that pig doing, anyway? Doesn't feel right with him not being here."

"He's been sick, the vet's not sure why, didn't think he could travel. Heart problems, I guess. Mabel's been upset over it but I'm not shocked. He's gotten pretty big over the past few years - he sure isn't Old Fifteen-Poundy anymore."

"Well, Mabel should learn not to feed him every time he makes a noise," Wendy said. "Aw, sweet!" She spotted an opening and zoomed in, moments before a pick-up truck decided to enter. They nearly collided, the car honked and she honked back, then flipped them the bird out the window as they drove off, leaving their pursuer stranded behind a row of cars.

"Eat shit, douchebag!" Wendy said before rolling up her window. "God, people in this state really need to learn how to drive. Sorry you had to see that, man. I know it's not ladylike of me."

"Well, it's _very_ Wendy-like, and that's fine," he said, putting a hand gently on her thigh. Wendy didn't move, but Dipper saw her face light up in excitement.

"If we're lucky we won't run into him later," she responded. "Or he won't have a gun."

"A gun?"

"Yeah, man. There was a road rage incident here a few months ago. Some pissed-off accountant got cut off by a truck driver and they had a loud argument. Mr. Accountant knew he'd get beaten to a pulp if he stood up to Mr. Trucker, so he went back to his car, pulled a .357 Magnum out of the glove compartment and blew the other guy's head off."

Dipper winced in disgust; he couldn't help glancing back out the window in fear, but saw a long line of nigh-indistinguishable cars behind them. They seemed safe.

"Yikes," he finally said.

"Anyway, if we handled Bill Cipher and that bald bastard last month, I'm sure we can take some angry rednecks at a restaurant."

"Hey, don't be so sure," Dipper muttered. "Some of the coolest people ever die in the silliest ways."

"Yeah, it's like a law of Nature," Wendy said. She smiled, remembering her apartment and an inside joke that only she could appreciate.

"Anyway..." Dipper wanted to talk a bit about tonight while there was time, and both relaxed. But how to bring it up?

"So, have you seen this Horus movie you were telling me about?"

Wendy smiled again. "Nah, but Robbie saw it on the late night movie awhile back. Says it's very gory and cheesy and with hammy acting. Sounds like our kinda show!"

"Poor Peter Cushing," Dipper said with mock upset. "He was such a good actor, and so many of his movies were garbage."

"Gotta pay the bills somehow," Wendy replied. "And besides, not everything can be _Dracula_."

"Or _Star Wars_."

"Sure, you have to bring that up."

There was a long silence; Wendy looked out the windshield, concentrating on the slowly-moving mass of cars. Dipper's eyes darted around her car, still puzzling how to say what he wanted to say, to ask what he wanted to ask.

Finally, as they got within two miles of the exit, she said: "Hey Dip?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm really looking forward to tonight."

"So am I, Wen," he sputtered.

"Means a lot to me that you're willing to give this a try," Wendy continued. (Dipper wasn't sure which "this" she was referring to, but chose not to raise the issue just then.) "I mean, I've dated some real shitheels over the last few years, and...you know, maybe this thing won't work out, but at the very least I know you're not like Graham or Stony or any of those lame-os."

"Well, thanks," Dipper said, his voice cracking. "And, well, I feel the same way. I mean, it's always worth taking a chance."

Wendy turned to him and pecked him on the cheek. "My thoughts exactly, dude!"

* * *

About a half-mile back, Charlie held the steering wheel in a death grip, hoping for any break in the traffic to emerge, fearing that the slightest move would get him and his girlfriend killed. Mabel, meanwhile, seemed scarcely able to control herself, bouncing in excitement barely contained by the seat belt.

"I still can't believe it!" she said, bouncing her shoulders and shifting her legs. "My first date! Our first date! And we're going to be with Dipper and Wendy! What is **happening**!?"

"I'm excited too, Mabel," Charlie said, smiling out of a corner of his mouth. "This should be fun. And if nothing else, we'll get a meal out of it."

"Yeah, that's the fun part of tonight," Mabel mocked, twisting his ear playfully.

Mabel was delighted by the evening ahead, something that a few hours ago had seemed a fantasy was now really happening! Maybe Dipper was right that she was way too into it, but Mabel didn't have much real dating experience - just a few jerks here and there over the years - and with Charlie a truly fun time seemed overdue. Not that she **minded** the Museum of History, exactly, but doing something outside the bookshelves and away from microfilm seemed a relief.

She had trilled with excitement when she spotted his brightly covered shirt. "You're like a canary!" she had told him, rubbing her hands against the outfit (and, Charlie couldn't help noticing, his chest). And with rare sang froid, Charlie even complemented her sweater, which she'd greeted with a bone-crushing hug.

Maybe he was finally coming out of his shell at last, Mabel thought, beaming at him from the passenger's seat. Though right now he seemed a bit more overwrought and terrified than he ought to in such light traffic.

"So, I noticed you were reading a novel instead of a history thingy," she said. "Anything you'd care to share?"

"It's a Philip Roth novel," he said. "Called _Letting Go_. About a couple of Jewish friends trying to make it in the Midwest amidst Gentile society. Lots of angst and romantic entanglements. Not bad, a bit self-absorbed, but that's his shtick."

"Hmm, Jews amid the Gentiles, eh?" Mabel said. "That sounds like something my dad would love to read. He still uses words like goyim and schmuck all the time. And yet he's the one who eats ham and pork and bacon. Mom doesn't like him talking like that, but you know, dads are dads."

"Yeah, I mean it's his whole thing. At least this one doesn't have so much masturbation."

"Wait, _what_?" Mabel recoiled in disgust. Cross _that_ book off her reading list.

"Yeah, that's pretty much his entire body of work. Masturbating, complaining about women, whining about the difficulties of being Jewish in America. Occasionally he'll stop to rant about Richard Nixon or Bill Clinton or someone else who bugs him. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't, he's a very scattershot writer."

"Sounds _exactly_ like Grunkle Stan!" Mabel hooted. "I don't need to read a book when I spend all summer with someone like that, am I right?"

"You are not wrong!" Charlie assured her. "My God, I can imagine Stan recording the audio books right now!"

Charlie then looked and saw a space opening up in the left lane. He was petrified, not sure what he should do, not sure if he had enough room or time.

"Charlie, what's wrong?" Mabel asked. "Take the spot! **TAKE THE SPOT**!" The second time came out much louder than she wanted it to, making Charlie even more nervous.

He froze up, felt a pang of fear in his chest. He wished he had his medication. He really hoped he wasn't having a goddamned panic attack driving on the highway, over something so damn stupid as passing someone, with a girl he liked in the car next to him...

"Charlie, **GO!** " Mabel's voice broke into his thoughts.

He reacted by slamming his foot hard on the pedal, without even thinking. They heard a honk, Mabel yeped, and Charlie saw another car vying for space out of the corner of his eye. He slammed the gas, heard the other car hit the breaks, skidding just short of the guardrail, and honking furiously. He breathed a sigh of relief, going forward until he hit another patch of traffic, slowly stared at the ceiling of the car until he felt his heartbeat and breathing slow to normal.

"Charlie, what _was_ that?" Mabel demanded. "We almost..." Then she noticed his face, which was white with fear and anxiety. And she suddenly felt regret, wondered if something was wrong, grabbed Charlie's arm and held it close.

"Are you okay?" she asked him, her voice changed from frantic to upset. "Please tell me you're okay, Charlie." She seemed about to cry, so Charlie reached down and stroked her hair.

"I dunno, that happens sometimes," he said emptily. "I get anxiety attacks, things like that. I take medication for it when they get really bad, but...usually it takes a long time to build, it doesn't just happen out of the blue. Not sure what caused this..." Though thinking about it, both he and Mabel could think of a few things.

"Oh." Mabel said, looking down at his right hand which was trembling. She clenched it as hard as she could.

"Sorry," he sputtered. "I guess I'm an even bigger loser than you thought, huh?"

"Now why would you say that?" Mabel said, doing her best to comfort him. "If you have a condition or something like that...I mean, you can't help it. And you said you take meds, right? So you're getting help for it."

"Yeah, but it doesn't always make me the most fun person to be around."

Mabel didn't know what to say to that, and she turned back forward, puzzling out what had just happened in her mind. She knew Charlie wasn't always the most open person, didn't always do a great job expressing his feelings or interacting with people, but she hadn't expected an episode like this.

Still, she decided right then that she loved him and she wouldn't let it stop her from dating him. She just needed to learn how to help him with it. So she clutched his hand and they drove silently for another few moments. Then they heard a familiar guitar lick come on the radio, and Mabel cranked up the volume.

"Hey, Charlie..." she said, ribbing him with her elbow. He didn't react, so she started singing. It was the &ndra song they had sung at the Shack the weekend before, and after a few verses, Charlie couldn't help joining in. Hesitantly at first, though he was shouting at the top of his lungs by the time they reached the chorus:

 _"You've got your slacked-back hair and your movie star face_

 _"And I've got a top-notch skirt and a dress made of lace_

 _"And our words and our feelings blow all over the place_

 _"But no matter what, we'll be cool_

 _"No matter what, we'll be cool"_

And Mabel noticed with approval as Charlie seemed to forget the anxiety attack altogether and flooded with fun, to the point where he was not only singing the main verses lustfully but even shrieked the background parts ( **"Dress made of lace!"** ) which made Mabel squeal with surprised laughter. And she grabbed him and kissed him on the cheek and held their heads together as the song reached its climax.

They were having so much fun that they almost regretted seeing the Baker's Grill sign looming on the horizon. As they pulled into the parking lot, Charlie turned off the radio.

"That was **amazing**!" Mabel yelled, pumping her fists, then slapping Charlie on the back. "And you...You are my pop superstar!"

"It was the funnest three minutes of my life," Charlie agreed, and Mabel wondered if he wasn't joking.

"Thanks Mabel," he said, hugging her close.

"Any time, Charlie," she said softly, snatching a quick kiss.

They looked around the parking lot and saw Wendy's van.

"Guess they're already inside," Mabel said. She started to unbuckle her seat belt, but Charlie grabbed her arm and pulled her down. Mabel turned in surprise and saw him grinning mischieviously.

"They can wait another three minutes, can't they?" he asked, pulling out his iPod and scrolling up "I Wish We Were," another &ndra song with an irresistible chorus.

Mabel squealed with delight and dived back into the seat as he hit play.


	4. Chapter 4

**5:00 pm**

Dipper and Wendy sat on the benches in the Baker's Grill foyer. Wendy was right, Dipper observed - the restaurant did look like a cut-rate Applebees. The building had a rustic wood interior with a high ceiling, which would have been nice except for the random photos and bric-a-brac everywhere, not to mention the soft rock and ten year old pop songs blaring semi-audibly over defective speakers. Though still relatively early, the place was already packed with famished, gabbing diners; it was a Friday, after all, and Dipper hoped that his sister would get here soon.

Fortunately, he saw Mabel and Charlie burst through the door arm in arm, laughing at a private joke.

"Took you guys long enough," Dipper muttered. "Thought I saw you pull in like ten minutes ago."

"Well, we did!" Mabel confessed. "But one of our favorite songs came on the radio and we just _had_ to stop and listen..."

"And sing," Charlie added.

"Doy, 'and sing'! That's a given!" Mabel laughed.

"Hey, look at you two!" Wendy enthused. "Bright colors, nice! Did you coordinate?"

"Nope, it's a happy coincidence!" Mabel said, stroking her boyfriend's shirt. "Doesn't he look like a little chick?"

Charlie coughed in discomfort as Wendy laughed.

"You don't look so bad yourself, Wen-Wen!" Mabel said. "Is that a new blouse?"

"Nah, it's just something I like to throw on when I'm feeling festive," Wendy said. "Not too fancy, just, you know, it comes in handy when flannel won't cut it."

Dipper and Charlie just nodded silently at each other as the girls chattered away. Then a hostess, a teenage girl with blonde and blue hair, showed them to a booth on the other side of the restaurant, right under a mounted moose head. The girls sat nearer the exit, the boys across from them.

"So, what's good here?" Mabel wondered, throwing open the menu eagerly and scanning it with her finger. "What's good, what's good?"

"So Charlie, how are things at the Museum since Preston went down?" Wendy asked. "Bet you're a big hero now, huh?"

"Not exactly," Charlie grimaced, reading over his own menu. "I'm not even sure my boss believes me about what happened. They still think the whole thing was just a weirdo causing trouble, maybe a prank or something? I don't know why it's so hard to get people to believe."

"Yeah, I'm not sure about that, either," Dipper said. "Most people here lived through Weirdmageddon yet it's hard to believe a few teenagers could put their minds together to stop a political conspiracy?"

"It **sounds** pretty incredible when you put it like that," Mabel said, not looking up from her menu. "Ooh, turkey burger!"

"Mabes, trust me," Wendy said. "Turkey burgers aren't that much healthier than beef. Not at all, really. Might as well get the real deal if you feel like pigging out."

"Maybe I like the taste," Mabel grumbled in response. But she had already turned the page.

"Bison burgers can be good, too," Charlie interjected.

"There's no bison on the menu," Wendy said. But Mabel had stopped paying attention to either of them, reading different menu items under her breath.

"Anyway, I'm wondering if there's a way to write about our experiences," Charlie said. "I've already shown my boss some of the documents and say I could do a profile of Rick Corduroy. They don't want to talk about the labor stuff just yet, but they're willing to do a series on your Great-Great-Uncle's war service at least."

"Nice, man," Wendy said. "You should totally do it! Tell you what, I'll ask my dad if he has any more stuff from Rick at home or with our cousin. It's definitely worth checking out."

A waiter came over and took everyone's drink orders. The Pines twins got water, Charlie ordered a diet cola.

"You guys mind if I order a beer?" Wendy asked. The twins shrugged; Charlie muttered "Sure."

"Okay, cool. You guys have Rolling Thunder? That's awesome!"

"You sure you want ale with your dinner, Wendy?" Dipper said, a bit surprised.

"Hey, twenty-one is twenty-one," Wendy said, fishing for her license. "My dad ordered a batch of this stuff last year. Specially brewed up in Newport using old-fashioned coopering barrels. A bit strong but tastes pretty good."

"Very well, miss," the waiter said, handing her ID back. "I'll have everything ready straight away."

"Just thought I'd ask," Wendy said. "I know these guys have their kosher thing, so I wanted to be sure"

"It's more of a Mabel thing at this point," Mabel said. "You own a pet pig, you lose interest in pork really quick."

"Which doesn't mean you won't sneak some bacon when Waddles isn't looking," Dipper teased her.

"That's a secret between us humans," Mabel winked.

"Nah, I just don't like alcohol," Charlie assured her. "My family's Episcopal, they don't care about that stuff much."

"That's cool," Wendy said. "You go to church in town here? I know there's an Episcopal place out by the hospital."

"I mean, I personally don't go to church that much...not at all, really," he said somewhat sheepishly, sinking down in his seat. "At least not since I went to college."

"No big deal," Wendy said with a wave of her hand. "We're kinda weird about the whole religion thing. My dad's Methodist, I think? My mom was a Catholic, if you can believe it. Anyway, any time we're feeling spiritual we'll just go to whatever church is convenient. Maybe it's not the God-approved way to do it, but..."

"Same," Dipper interjected. "Sometimes we go to Temple for High Holy Days and things like that, but not on a regular basis."

"And of course, we celebrate Hanukkah!" Mabel said. "Because what fun is it being Jewish if you don't?"

"We also celebrate Christmas and Easter," Dipper reminded her.

"And Passover!" Mabel enthused. For some reason, her saying this broke everyone into laughter.

"So I guess we're a pretty cosmopolitan bunch, huh?" Charlie joked.

Wendy smiled. Any lingering fears she had about Dipper or Charlie treating her like a loser vanished. These were definitely her friends.

"You'll see just how cosmopolitan I can be when that ale gets here," she said, winking at Dipper.

* * *

A little while passed and after they had ordered food, their conversation turned quite comfortable. At least for three of them. Dipper, for some reason, found himself reluctant to talk, the outsider looking in as his friends and sister chatted and sipped their drinks. Sure, Mabel would nudge him with her foot and throw a careless comment his way, but he mostly restricted himself to grunts and monosyllables and furtive glances.

Which didn't necessarily bother him, that much - he wasn't Mr. Sociable at the best of times, and part of him was still worried about what might happen with Wendy later tonight. But he couldn't help noticing that Wendy, whose boyfriend he'd been for all of three days, suddenly seemed engrossed in Charlie, who was more animated and voluble than he'd ever been in Dipper's presence before.

"...So we were discussing the Middle East," Charlie said about a poly sci class, "and this snot-nosed dingbat starts talking about Islam and the Middle East and he says that Afghanistan is an Arab country. I mean, I guess I could understand random Joe Schmoe making that mistake, but not Mr. Authority on the World in the back of the class. So I had to interject and point out that the vast majority of Afghans are just about everything but Arabs."

"Know-it-alls are total dickheads," Wendy agreed. "Especially when they know nothing. Believe me, I've dated my share of those clowns. And people in those political, current events classes are the worst."

"I mean yeah, they just want to interject their politics into everything, even where it doesn't belong," Charlie said.

"I know, right?" Wendy said. "That's the problem with undergrads, man. They think they know everything. They think the mere fact of holding an opinion makes you smart. Like, there was this girl in an English class last term who insisted that _The Human Stain_ was really a deep metaphor for the Black Man hidden inside all of us. Like, the hardest thing to believe about that story is that Philip Roth sat down and thought about anything besides his own dick."

"Oh my God, Philip Roth? I'm reading one of his books right now."

Wendy scrunched her face. "For fun?"

"Sure."

"Why? Dude just likes to write about getting his rocks off."

"It's a bit more complex than that -"

"Yeah, I know, Jewish identity and assimilation into American society and blah blah blah," Wendy interrupted. "I got a B in that class, so I know what you're gonna say. And sure, you can take that shit apart and write a nifty term paper on it. But, like, I don't need another book written by a wrinkly old white dude who wants us to know what a tragedy it was that Viagra hadn't been invented when he wrote his book. It's old, it's boring, it's redundant, it's gross. Move on."

"I didn't know that you were so into literary criticism, Ms. Corduroy," Charlie said jokingly.

"I mean, I don't read much highfalutin literature anyway, man," Wendy insisted. "I'm not the literary type, I'd rather be out climbing trees and taking pictures and junk. Or hunting monsters with these two." She rubbed Mabel's shoulder and kicked Dipper's shin under the table, the first time she'd contacted him in about ten minutes. "But, I mean, if I'm gonna read something I want to be able to relate to it. Like _Hatchet_ , now that's a great book."

"It's okay," Charlie said. "I'm more into _Where the Red Fern Grow_ s myself."

"Oh jeez, really?" Mabel cringed. "Those poor doggies! I couldn't make it through the last few chapters of that one, it was too sad."

"Yeah, that one's pretty grim for a kid's book," Wendy said. "But I understand if you love dogs, it's a must-read!"

Everybody laughed, except Dipper who kept casting furtive glances at his sister, hoping she would notice. But Mabel mostly seemed engrossed in Wendy and Charlie's conversation, looking for ways to insert herself when possible but willing to hang back and enjoy the conversation.

And Dipper really wondered how well he knew Charlie, or Wendy for that matter. He tried to reason that they were college students, that they had experiences they could talk about that he and his sister couldn't yet share with them, but that didn't make him feel better. And he noticed how easily they seemed to connect over a few random things in common, and he wondered...maybe three years were still a bigger deal than he'd thought.

"Well, I do **try** to write," Charlie was saying. "I mean, I've published a few things in the Museum's newsletter. And I review movies occasionally for the college newspaper."

"That's awesome. Dipper writes, don't you Dip?" Wendy said, trying to bring her date into the conversation.

"I mean, sorta," he said sheepishly. "Mostly just the journal about my findings and research."

"Must be a pretty awesome journal, though," Charlie said.

"Awesome's a matter of perspective," Mabel said before mock-snoring. "But it sure is big and detailed and full of monsters and goblin-ma-bobs."

"It's more exciting than that," Dipper huffed, a bit more defensively than he intended.

"Well, it's more exciting to experience than to read about," Wendy agreed.

"Hey, I totally get it," Charlie said. "I used to read all kinds of Bermuda Triangle and UFO and Bigfoot books when I was a kid. My favorite subject in the world! But I have to admit that didn't actually _believe_ in any of it until I moved out here and saw for myself."

"Whereas Dip got in on the ground floor," Mabel teased. "He's been believing in conspiracies and alien stuff since he was in diapers."

Dipper crossed his arms and harrumphed, and the conversation stopped cold for a moment. Everyone finally seemed to register that something was wrong, but couldn't tell what to say about it.

Then their waiter showed up with their entrees, and the conflict was momentarily shelved.

"Ooh, this burger's as big as my head!" Mabel insisted, eyeing the double-stacked cheeseburger with ravenous excitement. Wendy chuckled, her stomach growling at the sight of her ribs and seasoned corn on the cob.

Charlie enthusiastically cut into his bourbon hickory chicken breast and began devouring it with markedly little decorum, sauce and chicken bits oozing down his chin. Wendy arched her eyebrow, but then she saw Mabel shoveling her steak fries into her mouth. And she laughed again, thinking that these two really **were** a good match for each other!

Then she turned to Dipper, who had ordered a steak and was picking around the edges of it with his knife. "Dude, everything all right?" she asked as quietly as she could. Dipper shrugged.

"Come on man, don't be this way," Wendy said, reaching across the table at him. "What's eating you?"

Mabel overheard Wendy and decided to intervene. "Hey Charlie, I'm gonna run to the bathroom quick, wanna join me?" she asked.

"Um, but we just got our food," Charlie said. "And, I mean, how can I join you in the bathroom?"

"Charlie, wanna join me?" she said again, gesturing towards her brother with her head. It took a moment but he realized what she was doing and he slipped out of the booth. After they were out of sight, Wendy turned back to Dipper.

"So what's up?" Wendy asked, leaning across the table. "You seem pissed off about something. Spill, man!"

"I dunno," Dipper said. "Why don't you ask your new boyfriend Charlie?"

Wendy chuckled incredulously, until she realized Dipper was serious.

"Dude, what are you talking about? Oh man, you think I'm flirting with him?"

"It's just, you seem a lot more interested in him than me tonight, is all I'm saying," Dipper muttered.

"My God Dip, are you really that insecure?" Wendy groaned, putting her face in her hands. "Ugh, I thought you weren't going to be all 'guy' about this, but...Guess you can't help it." She sighed and brushed her hair, trying to collect her thoughts.

"Dipper..." she said after a long moment. "Having a conversation with another guy isn't a big deal. It just isn't. Charlie and me don't really know each other, at least not that well. So sure, I'm gonna ask him more questions because I don't know him well, or maybe because you and I talked the whole way over here.

"But you're **my** date, Wendy," Dipper said defensively, realizing how whiny he sounded after he said it. Too late to take it back; he winced, waiting for Wendy's response to land.

"Yeah," she said with a scowl. "And that means, what, you own me? That I can't talk to anyone else with a penis any more?" She leaned back, crossing her arms.

"Dude, this is not cool." Dipper opened his mouth to apologize, but she interrupted. "Seriously, stop it. I'll let you off the hook this one time since it's our first real date and I know you're you and, you know, I know you don't have that much experience with this kinda thing. But let's get a couple things straight. I have guy friends. I am gonna talk to guys who aren't you. It doesn't mean I think they're hot or that I'm gonna sleep with them or dump you for them or elope or whatever goes through your weird, paranoid mind. I mean, Charlie's a nice guy, but what on Earth makes you think we have anything in common? We talked for fifteen minutes about English classes and you're acting like we're making out in front of you.

"Really, Dip..." she finished, looking down at her plate with disappointment. "I guess I expected better from you."

And the two sat in silence for a moment, Wendy grabbing a french fry and spinning it aimlessly around the plate, Dipper just sitting there in shame.

"I'm sorry," he said finally. Wendy looked up at him, her face softer but still not smiling.

"Dude, we can't let this be weird," she said. "This is 2018 and platonic friendships are a thing that's acceptable. You know that, right? I know you do, you still talk to Pacifica even though you broke up ages ago. Just...don't be so insecure, you know?"

"I just thought, you know, he's older than me, you guys are roughly the same age..."

"Yeah, and so are a lot of guys," Wendy interjected. "They don't matter because I wanna be with you."

She grabbed his hand and smiled at him. At this moment of softness, Dipper felt a little better.

"Guess I'm acting like a huge dork tonight, huh?" he said, blushing.

"The biggest dork," she agreed. "But that's all right. This time."

"I'm sorry," Dipper said again. Then he looked around and realized Mabel and Charlie were still gone.

"Um, do you really think those guys were going to the bathroom?" Dipper asked.

"Man, I hope not," Wendy said. "But you know Mabel, anything to spend time with boys."

"Yeah, I just hope I didn't ruin everything," Dipper said.

"Not yet," Wendy assured him. "Just act normal when they get back and everything will be fine."

Dipper smiled, fiddled with his fork and cut off a piece of steak. To his disappointment, it was dry and overcooked and flavorless.

"My God," he sputtered. "I need an emergency dose of A1, stat!"

"All we've got is Heinz 57, dude!" Wendy laughed.

"Unacceptable," Dipper said. "Seriously, this steak is terrible."

"Should have gotten the ribs, man," Wendy chided him, biting off a piece of pork and chewing it with exaggerated, lustful pleasure before her suffering beau.

"Seriously man, this is really good stuff," she said, wiping off her chin. "Maybe they just overcooked it, or maybe it was, like, an expired cow or something."

"Maybe..." he said, poking the dark-gray meat. "Or maybe it was never alive to begin with."

From behind a divider near the kitchen, Mabel watched and smiled as Dipper and Wendy's conversation returned to playfulness. She was glad that they'd cleared up any misunderstanding, though she was a bit baffled that her brother would be jealous of Charlie. Besides, even if he had caused to be, Wendy would have to fight her for him.

"Mabel, maybe we should find somewhere else to eavesdrop?" Charlie whispered, squeezing awkwardly against the wall as a waitress with a plateful of entrees rushed past. "Sorry!"

"Nah, I think it's safe for us to go back," Mabel said.

She looked back over at their table and saw Wendy sticking a French fry covered in barbecue sauce into Dipper's mouth, and the two of them laughing. The sight made Mabel's heart melt.

"Or maybe in a minute," she said, resting her hands on her head and sighing with satisfaction. _Nice job, Bro-Bro,_ she thought. _And nice job, Mabel!_

"You know what's weird?" Charlie said, putting his hand on her shoulder.

"Hmm?" Mabel asked airily without looking back at him.

"Now I actually **do** have to go to the bathroom."

Mabel elbowed him gently in the stomach and he went reeling backwards. Some boys have no sense of timing.


	5. Chapter 5

**6:00 pm**

Wendy knew the evening was going to be okay when Dipper and Charlie started arguing about paranormal phenomena. Their discussion was heated - after all, this **was** Dipper's area of expertise - but she could tell it was friendly engagement rather than hostility, showing off knowledge to friends rather than challenging a rival. The kind of dick-measuring she could live with, in other words.

"Dude, the Bermuda Triangle is fake!" Charlie insisted. "All of those ships and planes supposedly disappearing are just an urban myth exaggerated by cheap paperback authors."

"How can you say that!?" Dipper was incredulous, practically leaping out of his seat. "How can you disbelieve inter-dimensional vortexes and time travel and all that after everything that's happened in Gravity Falls? How do explain all those planes that vanished just moments after sending an SOS symbol? The ships that vanished and were found deserted?"

"Just because **some** weird things are true doesn't mean they all are," Charlie insisted. "And unsolved does not mean unsolvable."

"That's right," Mabel interjected. "Remember the Gobblewonker? It turned out to Old Man McGucket the whole time!"

"Mabel, there really **is** a Gobblewonker," Dipper said. "We just couldn't find it ourselves..."

"Awhile back I did a research project on a Japanese ship that supposedly vanished in the Bermuda Triangle in the 1920s," Charlie lectured. "All the Bermuda Triangle stories have it sending a weird SOS about 'danger like dagger now!' then vanishing without a trace. With the implication that the dagger is like a UFO or something. Turns out that the ship sunk in a storm, in front of another ship, and there were even photographs taken of it as it sank. Yet because some sensationalist reporters made up a line of the inscrutable Orientals jabbering pidgin English, and it was repeated without context so many times that it became accepted as fact."

"All that proves is that **one** mystery wasn't real," Dipper insisted. "One out of hundreds, even thousands of incidents!"

"Fair enough, but the existence of one mysterious event does not prove that all events are therefore mysterious," Charlie said authoritatively. "I'm not saying that every paranormal event is a hoax or made up or false, because that would be stupid. I'm just saying that this particular one is an invention of the sensationalist media."

"And...checkmate!" Mabel announced, dropping her fork on her plate.

"No, not checkmate..." Dipper sputtered haplessly, thinking of a way to continue the argument. "Like, maybe you're right and a lot of these cases aren't as mysterious as they're reported. I guess I can buy that. But some of them probably are. Planes don't just vanish without a trace in our day and age, with radios and radar and things. Maybe three hundred years ago it was possible. Maybe we should focus on individual cases rather than thinking there's a broader phenomena."

"That makes sense," Charlie agreed, nodding. "I'd be open to that line of investigation."

"Okay, I think I'm gonna call it a tie," Wendy said.

"Whoo, so even with us gone for that long spell I'm the first one to finish!" Mabel announced, patting her belly and belching.

"I told ya, Mabes, get these two guys talking and they just won't shut up," Wendy said between bites of her corn. "That's life."

"I'm sorry," Charlie sputtered.

"No, don't apologize, man," Wendy said. "I was just wondering how long it was going to take for you dudes to go at it. That's like..."

"...A law of Nature!" she and Dipper said at once, then looked at each other, startled and laughing.

"Oh, you guys!" Mabel gushed. She leaned across the table towards Charlie. "You're already finishing each other's..."

Charlie obliviously popped a bite of baked potato into his mouth.

"Each other's..." Mabel said again, leaning closer. Charlie wiped off his chin with his napkin and took a sip of his drink.

 **"EACH OTHER'S!"** Mabel yelled in Charlie's face.

"Huh?" Charlie recoiled with shock and sent his knife flying to the floor.

"Hey, let the man eat," Wendy said.

Mabel drooped back in his seat and scowled at her beau, who shrugged with incomprehension.

"I'm sorry for whatever I did or didn't do," Charlie said diplomatically as he picked the last bits of potato off the skin.

"I **guess** it's okay," Mabel huffed.

The waiter appeared. "Looks like you're all finishing up. Anybody interested in desert?"

The kids looked around at each other, goading each other to make a decision.

"I'm a little tight on money right now," Charlie admitted. "Payday isn't until next week..."

"Yeah, I think we're good," Mabel said, though her face showed disappointment. "We can get some ice cream or something when we get home."

"How about some more drinks for everyone?" Dipper suggested. "All right if we stay here for awhile, man?"

"Sure thing. Ma'am, do you want another ale?"

"Nah, last thing I need with my luck is a DUI," Wendy said. "I'll take a water though."

Dipper was staring at Wendy as the waiter cleared everyone's plates. "What?" she asked.

"I dunno, I could drive if you're gonna get hammered."

"Dude, I drink, I don't 'get hammered,'" Wendy smirked. "Besides, I have some beer at the apartment if that's all I want to do."

"Just saying," Dipper mumbled. Wendy wasn't sure if this was a bad joke or what, so she shot him a glare until he backed off.

Maybe it wasn't best to suggest to a girl who's taking you home that she should get drunk. Better to learn these lessons on a first date, Dipper reasoned, then a few years down the line...or never.

Still, even as the conversation wandered on he couldn't help thinking ahead to whatever might happen that night. And the closer that moment grew, the more excited and scared and confused he became.

* * *

The four friends found enough to talk about that they were still sitting there, taking up space, eyed by impatient customers and antsy waiters, at 9:00. The restaurant, however, was growing more and more crowded with Friday night drinkers, and it seemed the right time to get going.

"At least there's still some sun out," Dipper said as they stepped outside, though he was greeted by eerie blue twilight.

"Yeah, and it's a lot cooler than it was earlier," Mabel observed, hugging herself warm.

"So, where to next?" Dipper said. "Are we going our separate ways, or...?"

"I mean, whatever you guys wanna do," Wendy shrugged. "It's still pretty early, I guess."

"What do you think, Mabel?" Charlie asked.

"Well...on the one hand, I love spending time with **all** of my favorite people," she said, adopting a thoughtful pose. "But this **is** a special occasion...Dip, would you be alright if I spent the rest of the night with Charlie?"

"Yeah...I mean, sure," Dipper sputtered.

"Hey, don't get all nervous, bro!" Mabel teased. "After all, you and Wendy..."

"Mabel, don't," he snapped.

"Hey, **I** was looking forward to it," Wendy snarked, pretending to have her feelings hurt. "But if you feel that way, man..."

"No, no, it's..." And Dipper stopped himself from devolving into another nervous sputter.

"Come on Charlie," Mabel said, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards his car. "We can go back to your place and have more Mabel and Charlie Fun!"

"Back to **my** place?" Charlie seemed surprised, panicked even. "I mean, wouldn't you feel more comfortable at the Shack?"

"Sure, but the Shack isn't any fun if there isn't a Dipper around to keep us company," Mabel elaborated. "And I think he's going to be a little occupied tonight."

Charlie weighed the decision in his mind. The idea of having Mabel over hadn't even occurred to him. And he sure didn't feel ready yet for anything more serious than a kiss.

"Well...okay," he said weakly. "I mean, my apartment's a mess, but..."

"Nothing a little Mabel can't fix," she assured him. "Just ask Dipper, I can work miracles!"

"Come on, man," Wendy said. "If nothing else you dudes can listen to Ampersandy or whatever her name is all night."

"I mean, my idea of fun on a Friday night is watching old videos of the Watergate Senate hearings online," Charlie admitted.

Wendy stared at him for a long minute. "Wow. Congratulations Dip, you are no longer the biggest nerd in Gravity Falls."

"I knew it!" Mabel said triumphantly. "Yes, yes, yes! We're the bigger dorks! In your **face** , Dippingsauce!"

"Well...I guess we could go our separate ways, then?" Wendy said. " _Night of Horus_ ain't gonna watch itself, Dip!"

"Uh, yeah," Dipper said, overcome again by sheepishness. "Looking forward to it. Always up for some monster action." He looked over at Charlie, who put a hand around Mabel's arm and smiled at her with happiness and affection. And he felt a need to make amends for his behavior earlier, even if Charlie was too guarded to bring it up.

"Hey man, before we go...do you have a copy of that article you were talking about?" Dipper asked. "I mean, the one about the Japanese ship? I'd like to take a look at it."

"It's online, I'll send you the link when I get to my computer," Charlie said.

"Cool, I'd appreciate it," Dipper replied.

"Yeah, and maybe you'd let me take a look at your journal some time?" Charlie asked.

Dipper hesitated, then said: "I mean, some of it. There's some more personal stuff in it I might not want anyone else...even Mabel, to see."

"Whatever works, man," Charlie said.

"And hey, take care of my sister tonight, will you? I mean, I trust you not to do anything...you know, but she means the world to me, so..."

"Sure thing," Charlie promised. "Of course, I think **I'm** the one you should be worried about!"

Dipper laughed and held out his fist for Charlie to bump. After a moment Charlie did, and the two friends smiled at each other.

"Aww, what's this?" Mabel giggled, pulling her date and her twin close. "Maybe Charlie's going home with the wrong Pines twin?"

"I'll trade ya, Charlie," Wendy joked. Dipper forced a smile, though seemed a bit uncomfortable. "No thanks," he muttered. "No offense Charlie, but I think Mabel's getting the better trade there."

* * *

After a few more minutes of silliness, the Mystery Team said their goodbyes and went their separate ways for the night. Mabel and Charlie drove off first, grateful that the highway had long since cleared of traffic.

"So, anywhere else you'd like to go?" Charlie sputtered as they turned onto the interstate.

"We've already had our fun for the night," Mabel said. "I mean, our out fun! By my estimate, there's still 3-4 more hours of optimum Friday night enjoyment."

"I mean, I'm sure we could find a movie to watch or something," he said. "Once we got tired of the tunes, of course."

"Sure," Mabel said, leaning against Charlie's shoulder. "But Charlie, could you promise me one thing?"

"Umm, okay?"

"We're not watching Senate videos, okay? At least not until we're ready to sleep."

Charlie shrugged. "I mean, we _could_ watch the impeachment hearings. Technically they were the House..."

Mabel bopped him on the head. "No, no, no! Wrong answer! No Congressional branches, period!"

"It's a joke, Mabel! God! Yeah, I know, that's my private stash anyway. I've got the biggest Man-Crush on Howard Baker, and since he's dead that's the only way I can do it."

"Wendy was right," Mabel laughed. "You **are** the biggest dork in Gravity Falls! And that's some accomplishment."

"A little while ago you seemed to think that was a complement."

"It sure is! And I'm proud of it, but let's find something that we can be dorky about...together."

"There are definitely plenty of things we could watch that aren't proto-C-SPAN, but _Dream Boy High_ isn't one of them." He smirked, knowing this would strike a chord with his date.

"Those movies are classics!" Mabel huffed. "You boys just can't appreciate it!"

"Yeah, I know there's something to be said for ogling handsome beefcake," Charlie admitted. "But come on Mabel, don't you think they're just a little bit silly?"

"You mean the movie where they defeat the evil Demon Principal through the Power of Rock? What's ridiculous about that?"

"I dunno, everything you just said," Charlie joked.

"Not my fault if you can't have fun," Mabel said, smacking him hard on the arm. Charlie saw that she scowling at him, wondered if he had actually pushed too far.

"Besides, Xyler and Craz saved my life!" she added. "They're more than just beefcake."

"Umm...okay," Charlie muttered, not sure what Mabel meant and not really wanting to ask. "Sorry, didn't realize they meant so much to you."

"That's okay, they're not for all tastes," Mabel said. "I'm sure there's some equally killer '90s movie we could watch."

"Oh yeah, or even '80s!" Charlie said.

"Even better!" Mabel gasped. "And I know just the eight hundred movies we could check out."

Charlie laughed, stroked Mabel's knee, then stared straight ahead for a long moment, as if deep in thought.

"Well, until we make a selection, there is one thing that comes to mind." And to Mabel's delight, he again held up his iPod.

"Charlie Huston, I thought you'd never ask!" And Mabel turned on the radio and yet again, the summer air filled with overly loud pop music and the passionate, off-key screeching of two young adults in love.

 _Author's note: Thanks as always to all my readers for following and reviewing my story! Should be able to wrap everything up in the next chapter!_


	6. Chapter 6

**11:00 pm**

Dipper and Wendy were nearing the finale of _The Night of Horus_. The monstrous mummy god, who throughout the film shifted between articulate, suave human played by Herbert Lom and bandaged fiend depending on the film's makeup budget, had just wasted Roddy McDowall with a magic curse and was bearing down on Peter Cushing and Ingrid Pitt. Poor Peter was holding the creature at bay with a magic incantation, but the Mummy didn't seem to care, was advancing ever closer.

"Dude, just yank on his bandages and he'll fall apart!" Wendy said. "Why don't people in these movies ever think of the obvious solution?"

"It's not even, like, a bandage," Dipper noted. "It looks like papier mache or something!" A close-up of the Mummy's gnarly face seemed to confirm their suspicions.

They watched and laughed as the Mummy attacked the hero, accompanied by the voluptuous Miss Pitt's screams.

"Oh no, I can't outrun an undead creature made of rags," Wendy mocked. "Help me, I am slow and dumber than a bag of hammers!"

"Hey, he has his magic curses, too," Dipper said in defense of the monster. "He can summon scarabs or plagues or, I dunno, whatever he did to Roddy a minute ago. A sun beam reflected through the temple."

"I guess that's true," Wendy said. "Funny how he never seems to use them against the main characters, though!"

"If he did, then the movie would be over."

And Dipper wasn't sure if he wanted the movie to be over. They were sitting on Wendy's bed but without any particular intimacy just yet - so far, it could just be another movie night with Wendy the Friend, not a special evening with Wendy the Girlfriend. Was he just that bad at reading signals, that this was all he should expect? Or had it just not happened yet and he was worrying over nothing?

The movie lasted a few more minutes and then climaxed with the heroes somehow summoning a benevolent God that reduced the Mummy to dust.

"Boo, total cop-out!" Wendy jeered, clapping sarcastically.

"Well, that's **one** way to end a movie," Dipper muttered. "Just end it without bothering to make sense or tie things together."

"Well, on our scale I'd give it about a 2," Wendy said. "It was dumb fun with bits of actual competent strewn in."

"I mean, it had better production values than the stuff they show in Gravity Falls," Dipper said. "But that's not saying anything."

"The lack of John Saxon was a definite plus," Wendy added.

The two sat on the edge of the bed, Dipper's eyes darting around Wendy's room, Wendy twiddling her thumbs, then their eyes met purely by accident.

"So..." Dipper said.

"You ready for bed yet?" Wendy asked as casually as she could, laying down on her side.

"Umm...I guess so." _This is happening_ , Dipper said to himself, pulsing with excitement and dread. _It's now or never_. But somehow he couldn't force himself to move and just sat there.

Wendy stretched out and yawned. "I mean, it's only about 11:00," she said. "We can stay up a little longer if you want..."

"No, it's just..."

"Dude, take a chill pill." She patted the blanket next to her, and Dipper laid himself down slowly, awkwardly, excitedly, staring for the moment at the ceiling.

"This was a nice night, Dip," she said. "Gotta say, you're not too bad at this date business."

Dipper looked over at her. "Yeah," he sputtered, unable to say anything more for the moment. Her green eyes flashed in the dim light, and he felt another pang of expectation.

"Guess I still had some reservations about dating a younger guy, but...I mean, you're Dipper," she said. "Except for that weird moment where you went off on Charlie..."

"I didn't go off on Charlie," he said defensively.

"No, but you pouted and acted like a grump," Wendy insisted. "And dude, I'm not holding it against you! I'm just sayin'..."

She stroked his hair and his forehead. Dipper turned towards her smiling face and planted a big, sloppy kiss on Wendy's...

...cheek?

Yep, Wendy and Dipper had gone in for a kiss at the same time and missed the mark entirely. They both looked at each other in confusion, then broke into laughter.

"Man, guess I should have expected something like that," Dipper muttered.

"It's all right, dude, no harm," Wendy assured him. "It's just that we're both, like, a little too eager. Which is good! Now, maybe we can take it a little slower and see how it goes. Okay?"

Dipper nodded and Wendy kissed him on the neck, stroking his chest and shoulders and growing more and more amorous by the moment. And he felt himself getting more excited and more petrified at once, unable to act, deciding that Wendy was the expert here and maybe he should let her do what she wanted.

Then he felt a familiar feeling (familiar yes, but more intense, more uncontrollable than he'd experienced it before) rising within him, and panicked, and tried to fight it, worrying that he was too excited that he couldn't control himself. But it came and went faster than he could stop it, and he had to lay back as the stabs of warmth and pleasure shot through him. He cried out, then laid back on the pillow, then felt horribly embarrassed, worried that somehow he had malfunctioned and climaxed on his own...

"Hey man, are you okay?" Wendy asked, her head bolting up.

"I'm sorry," he uttered, turning away from her. "I'm so sorry, Wendy. Oh man, I can't believe that _happened_."

"Believe what, dude?" Wendy asked. "What happened?" Then it dawned on her. After another moment, she smiled and pressed herself against him, then whispered into his ear: "That's what's supposed to happen."

And it was only then that Dipper felt Wendy's right hand moving away from his waistband...and he breathed a massive sigh of relief. Of course, the moment he'd spent six years waiting for had to happen like **that**.

* * *

Mabel stood in Charlie's bathroom, examining herself in the mirror. With a door between her and her boyfriend, her excitement and bubbliness faded. Despite all the fun she had just had, she suddenly thought that she looked tired, and worried, and confused.

It wasn't just that she'd swapped her outfit for one of Charlie's college t-shirts - too big, probably, even for him, and definitely for Mabel, going down past her knees. She was wearing it because if she was going to sleep over, a sweater and a skirt wouldn't be the most comfortable or most appropriate outfit.

The night had been all that she'd dreamed of - the singing in the car, the friendly chats over a decent meal, watching Dipper and Wendy bonding, something she'd been cheering for secretly for six years - and all she'd hoped it would be. It had ended with her and Charlie eating pints of ice cream and watching cartoons on the internet; some anime that Mabel liked, and a really cute series about two mismatched brothers lost in a mystical forest. It made Mabel's heart sing and Charlie cry. But it also made Mabel wonder what she was doing here.

Thinking back, she'd mostly wanted to go with Charlie because she wanted Dipper and Wendy to be alone. And maybe a little because she didn't want to spend the night alone. But she still didn't think that actually sleeping with.

Or would Charlie even _want_ sex with her? As that thought passed through her mind, her self-confidence drained away and she remembered all the girls at school who had made fun of her for being weird and for not being as...mature as they were. She had been a late bloomer, and while by senior year she was as mature as anyone else in Piedmont, it was hard to move past that memory. She sighed and suddenly felt that all of her remarkable traits were unimportant since this one basic thing was bugging her.

Not that she was against sex at her age, just that it had always been an abstract concept. Love and affection and friendship - those were real, tangible concepts to Mabel, things that she could grasp and understand. Actually sleeping with someone though seemed completely a completely alien concept, something that she couldn't imagine herself doing at all.

Still, she fought down the torrents of self-doubt with a sigh and walked into the bedroom. Charlie was leaning back reading his novel, though it seemed to Mabel he just pretending to read, blankly scanning the pages without actually absorbing the words. Somehow that made her feel worse.

"Hey," she said, waving with a weak smile on her face. And she slowly lowered herself onto the bed beside him. "Still reading, huh?"

"Yeah," Charlie grumbled. "Want to plow through this monster and find something more exciting to read soon. So, you know, taking every waking moment to read this thing."

"Well, I guess you could stop by the library tomorrow," Mabel said blankly.

"Maybe," Charlie conceded. "I might hang out with some friends from work in the afternoon, but...We'll see."

The two sat there for a long moment, Mabel with her head between her knees, looking sheepish, Charlie staring straight ahead and pursing his lips nervously. Then they turned to each other and said at once:

"Listen, Charlie-"

"Hey, Mabel-"

And then they looked at each other and smiled, but didn't laugh.

"You first," Charlie said.

Mabel let out a long sigh, looking back down and chewing on her hair.

"Charlie, I just want to say...Man, this is awkward!"

"Are you all right, Mabel?" Charlie asked, suddenly concerned.

"You are a great guy and I had a lot of fun tonight," she assured him. "I just don't know...I'm not ready for..."

She turned towards him, speaking with upset passion. "Blaargh, I don't know why this is so **hard**! Okay...Charlie, I'm not ready to...have sex! There, I said it. Not because you're not a great guy - you are amazing and fun and sweet and smart and all of that! It's just, I want to save it for a special occasion, you know? Want to be ready. Want both of us to be ready."

"Really?" Charlie said, eyes wide with incredulity. "I was...gonna say the same thing!"

It took Mabel a moment to digest this; when she finally did, she developed an expression like she'd swallowed a frog. Then she laughed - really, more of a super-awkward cackle that startled Charlie.

"Oh man, seriously?" Mabel asked, smacking him with a pillow. "I spent the past hour worrying about what you'd say and...Wow! You loser! You should have said something!"

"Why didn't you?" Charlie said helplessly. "You know I'm not good with expressing this kind of stuff!"

"This kind of stuff? Like I have any experience with this? Come on, Charlie, you should know me better than that by now!"

"Why would that bother you?" Charlie asked. "I hope **you** know me better than to think I'd make you do something you don't feel comfortable with. And you know that I'm not, you know, overly experienced in that area either..."

Mabel smiled. "Guess that wasn't fair of me," she admitted sheepishly. She turned over and kissed Charlie on the forehead, then gently wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

"We're both lonely, scared dorks, I guess," Mabel said, staring at the ceiling. Charlie kissed her temple and gently stroked her hair.

"Yeah," Charlie admitted, "I guess so. But it's okay to be a dork if you find other dorks, too."

"That is the sweetest thing you could have said," Mabel asked, staring into his eyes.

The moment seemed too perfectly - so she tweaked his nose. "Bwop!"

"You know, maybe I should take out an insurance policy," Charlie said. "At some point all these elbows and smacks and bwops are gonna get me dinged up."

Mabel giggled and nestled her head in Charlie's chest, clutching his hand to her shoulder. "Only if I'm your beneficiary," she murmured.

"Deal." Then a long pause as they settled into each other's arms.

"Good night, Mabel," Charlie said, reaching for the lamp.

"Good night, Charlie," Mabel responded, her eyes already closed, her worries melted away by happiness and love.

The light turned out.

* * *

After she cleaned herself up, Wendy walked back out into her bedroom. Dipper was already fast asleep, a blissful smile on his face. Wendy stood over him for a moment, then put a hand gently on his cheek. He stirred a little, but didn't wake up.

She felt a little weird about the way things had gone a moment ago, how Dipper seemed more traumatized than excited by what happened between them. But he wasn't the first guy to freak out their first time, and he was much more endearing and understanding about it than certain other people she could think about. Some day they would properly hook up, but for now...that should be okay for practice.

Of course tonight had to end on an awkward note, Wendy thought to herself. We define awkward. We're an awkward couple. We're two freaks making our way in the world. And it's fine, now that we have each other. Everything will be fine. And maybe, just maybe, we'll be a little less awkward in the future. Until then, this night was pretty much perfect.

She crossed back over to her side of the bed, slipping off her khakis and slipping under the covers next to Dipper. She turned towards him and draped an arm over his chest. As she started closing her eyes, she saw a shadow skittering across the wall.

And the shadow came into sharper focus. Another centipede.

"Goddammit," she said, reaching over Dipper towards the bug. Before it could move, she smashed it flat with the palm of her hand. And she realized, having just washed her hands, that she'd have to do it again. And groaned out loud.

Well, it was _almost_ a perfect night.

 **The End**

 _Author's note: Thanks to everyone for reading (and reviewing) this story! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. Stay tuned for the next, bigger installment sometime soon! - AllenbysEyes_


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